Conversations Kill
by Vanillasiren
Summary: The Rumple-Regina scenes form 3X08. Makes more sense if you read "Ask Me No Questions" first.


Conversations Kill

Summary: The Rumple-Regina scenes form 3X08. Makes more sense if you read "Ask Me No Questions" first.

Author's Note: So this past week, both my computer and my car decided to crash on me. Both are fixed, but it's been a bit stressful (and expensive!). Golden Queen fic-writing is a pleasant distraction, but at the same time, I'd appreciate honest reviews, since I don't know if this is quite up to my usual standard. Also note, I plan on doing more catch-up one-shots over the winter hiatus.

_Regina's POV_

She's babbling.

Well, she is as close to babbling as she ever gets. They've been so silent, so sullen, in their trek through this Neverland … forest? Jungle? Whatever the hell it is … that it's become … noticeable, weighted, laden with a meaning it shouldn't have. Their silence says too much, gives their previous conversation an importance she knows it shouldn't have. And Rumple will not seek to mitigate this, will not risk making himself look foolish through speech. This is because he is a coward to the core.

But for Regina, fear of what the silent speaks outweighs fear of saying something stupid.

"Despite our differences, I can always count on you to get things done." Of course, as soon as she says it, she wishes she could take it back, use a dagger to cut out the compliment, but then, that's the price she pays to fill the silence as quickly as she can. "Pan told them Neal was alive, and of course Emma took the bait. Such a waste of time."

It takes a moment for Regina to realize what she's said. She sees his back stiffen, his posture change.

"Oh, I'm s-sorry."

The words spill out this time, really spill out, before she can stop them. Perhaps the silence was best after all.

She shouldn't ever apologize to him. For anything. She doesn't care about his pain or his loss any more than he cares about hers. She knows this, and yet, she allowed herself to stand her, with a tremble, a _stutter_ in her voice, no less, apologizing to him for –

It's almost laughable, really. After all the awful things she's done in her life (all the awful things he _taught_ her to do), _this_ is what she's choosing to be sorry for, being indelicate about his son?

For a moment, she doesn't know who she hates more. Rumple, or herself.

But her hatred gives way to confusion when he explains that his son is alive.

She knows they're not on good terms, he and Baelfire, but _gods_, why isn't he … why hasn't he sunk to the ground in relief? Why isn't he more … something!

He's leaving something out.

He's keeping something from her. Something big. Something bad.

She needs to find out what it is.

But before she can get the truth out of him, they come up upon the others, the useless ones, including his not-dead son.

And the truth …

On the one hand, it punches her in the gut, cleans out her lungs, and she feels herself deflate, compress.

On the other hand…

_I should have known. I should've known, and protected Henry by eliminating the threat. I should have known that Rumple and I could never be united with a goal like this, a good thing, a pure thing, saving my son, his grandson. We've only ever joined together in darkness, in death. _

_I should have known, but I wanted it to be different this time, because…_

_I hate you, Rumple. I hate you so very much._

Rumple hands over Pandora's Box to his son, to prove he no longer intends to kill Henry. Regina is disgusted with herself for how badly she wants to believe him. She can't trust him, she _can't_, why does she have to keep reminding herself of this simple, immutable fact?

After all, even his own son is wary of him. Neal … Bae … whatever … won't allow him to do any magic, not even just to knock out a few lost boys. Well, at least Rumple's son is good for something … other than being another person Henry will find more worthy of love than she.

"I'll do it," Regina says.

"You remember the spell?" Rumple asks.

_Really?_

_Really?_

_As if I could ever forget anything you taught me. As if I could ever forget being your student and your patsy and your _whore_. I couldn't forget a moment of it Rumple, not even if I tried … and believe me I've tried._

_What do you take me for?_

Later, she … she has to hand Pandora's Box over to him. It's not that she wants to trust him, blindly, stupidly, _again_; it's that she doesn't have a choice.

"You better come through Gold. Or I'll make whatever Pan has planned for you look like child's play. You understand me?"

_You won't die. You can never die. You can never die at anyone's hand but my own. _

He just gives a condescending smile that makes her want to slap him. Or ...

"Well, a simple 'good luck' would have sufficed."

And then he's gone. And Regina knows in her bones that she just can't stand here waiting for the ones she loves to come back to her. And so she swallows her pride, and tells Emma to follow her lead.

_Rumple's POV_

_Stop talking, Regina._

That's the only thing he can think, the only thing he can allow himself to think right now. The voice-taking spell may not be as simple as she just made it look with Ariel, but he's considering using it on Regina herself right now.

But that really was an excellent bit of magic on her part. The great ones not only know the spells inside and out, they make them look easy. It's really quite pleasing to see his former student wield her craft so expertly, he feels rather proud…

_Stop it_, he tells himself. But he can't. He can't stop thinking any more than Regina can stop talking.

This is going to be a long walk.

But when Regina stumbles – stutters! – over an apology, an actual apology, the walk stops short. He feels her words like a punch in the gut.

Regina doesn't apologize for anything. For any of the horrible things she's done (the things he _taught_ her to do).

"Oh, s-sorry."

Two little trembling words.

He can't take them. Not from her. She needs to … to call him a bastard, or a twisted little imp, or _something_!

When the truth is revealed, and she looks at him once again with hatred in her eyes, he feels almost weak with the relief of it. Now the careful constructions of their relationship slide perfectly back into place, and things are as they should be again.

Now they can talk more freely. Now he can taunt her, tease her.

"You remember the spell?"

He doesn't have to look at her to see the expression on her face, to feel the heat from the glare of her eyes. It warms him to his very bones.

And later too, she gives him exactly what he needs, what they both need: "You better come through, Gold. Or I'll make whatever Pan has planned for you look like child's play. You understand me?"

He smiles at her, at her hate, at her rage. He smiles, he _smirks_, because he knows it will infuriate her further, keep her angry, make her strong. And she's going to need that strength, more than ever, if he fails. Someone must be left, someone _has_ to be left, to face the child-monster his father has become, to save his grandson. And after all, hasn't he taught her everything she knows, his Regina, his wicked one?

"A simple 'good luck' would have sufficed."

He has to face him, Pan. His father. He knows he has to face him, coward though he is. He has to face him and defeat him, and return with Henry, return to the ones he loves.

So he takes a deep breath, swallows his fear, and walks into skull rock with Pandora's box in his hand.


End file.
